The Morningstar’s Detroit safehouse was quiet. It was early in the morning, and Lukas was tired of hearing Nick cry all night. He was tired of thinking about his mistakes. He was tired of wondering whether or not Eliza had actually been in love with him as he had been with her. He was exhausted.
But he had finally healed. The six slugs had been rejected by his body in a feverish could of days, but all evidence of them was gone now. It was time to go.
Lukas looked across the disheveled room. If you weren’t expecting anyone, except maybe the police, why clean? Nick was not well. Lukas had tried to talk to him, but there didn’t seem to be any point. Sarah’s death had hit him in a predictable way: crushing. Absolutely crushing. Lukas felt like he was waiting to find Nick hanging from something - probably a sheet - nearly every morning.
“You’re leaving,” said Nick.
It wasn’t a question.